


invidia

by YanderexBabydoll



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cheating, Christmas Party, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Meet the Family, Mentions of choking, Mild Daddy Kink, Mild Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Underage Drinking, Yandere, it's brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderexBabydoll/pseuds/YanderexBabydoll
Summary: You're nervous about spending the holidays with your boyfriend's father, but Kuroo Tetsurou is determined to make you feel right at home.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 279





	invidia

“You don’t need to be nervous, y’know?”

The hand around yours squeezes and you glance up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, offering him a faint smile. “I’m not.”

Well, you shouldn’t be. It’s not like you haven’t met Shinnosuke’s father before. Kuroo Tetsurou’s an impressive man with a very impressive job. Chairman of the Japanese Volleyball Association; the youngest ever to hold the title, a feat even more impressive considering the fact that he was - _is_ \- a single father. 

He’s the reason that Shin plays, the reason that your boyfriend eats, breathes and lives for volleyball. You might have begrudged him that, if it wasn’t the very thing that brought the two of you together. Nekoma’s fearless Captain and their manager; a love story as old as time, or so your old teammates liked to joke. 

So yes, you’ve met your boyfriend’s dad before - seen him at the occasional game, at Nationals once or twice. And in the year or so that you’ve been with Shinnosuke, you’ve done the obligatory meet and greet, seen him duck in and out of the house on the odd nights that you’ve stayed over, but you’ve never actually had much of a chance to talk with him. 

He’s a very busy man.

You’ve never sat down and had a proper meal with him. You don’t really know if he even remembers your name… or if he actually remembers that you’re dating his son to begin with. 

And this isn’t just dinner - this is the holidays. One week, just you, Shin and his dad. 

“I’m serious. You know dad’s the one who suggested you come stay with us, right?”

Now that gets an eyebrow raise. “Wait, really?”

Shin laughs. “I was gonna bring it up anyway, he just beat me to it s’all. He does want to meet you - properly I mean.” He pauses, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. Shin’s never been the serious, stoic type, but there’s a look in his eyes when he stares at you, and you know that there’s nothing remotely flippant about the words he says next. He means them, wholeheartedly. “He knows how much you mean to me.”

Your heart flutters, a smile unwittingly finding its way across your face. “Sap,” you tease softly, and Shin laughs again. 

He doesn’t deny it.

—

For all the times you have met Kuroo Tetsurou - you’ve never once seen him out of a suit. 

So this - him greeting you both at the door wearing a pair of dark grey sweats and a hoodie, his hair mussed up like he’s just rolled out of bed - is more than a little unexpected. It’s not a _bad_ look for him, not by any stretch of imagination, it’s just that you hadn’t quite ever imagined him looking quite so… relaxed.

There’s a smirk on his face as he meets your wide eyed gaze, and you get the distinct impression that Kuroo knows _exactly_ what you’re thinking - and that your poker face might need a little work. 

“So the lovebirds finally show up,” he says, leaning against the open doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “Glad you two could make it.”

Shin just snorts, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly as he claps his father on the shoulder. “I said after lunch didn’t I? It’s still after lunch.”

Kuroo ignores him, choosing instead to focus on you, standing in front of him with your suitcase, a shy, hesitant smile on your face. “Mr Kur-”

A raised hand and a chuckle stops you in your tracks. “Tetsurou’s fine, sweetheart. Or Tetsu, if you’d prefer.”

He shoots you a wink that has your cheeks burning and beside you, your boyfriend groans in response, “Oh my god, would you please stop? We literally _just_ got here.” 

“Fine, fine. Wouldn’t wanna offend your _delicate_ sensibilities,” Kuroo - Tetsurou, you remind yourself - laughs, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. 

It’s an unexpectedly endearing moment, especially when Shinnosuke scowls and shoves him off with a huff. There’s no real heat behind the gesture, and it seems that not even he can keep the corners of his lips from twitching upwards. 

He doesn’t have to say it, you know he’s missed being home these past few months. You both have.

The moment passes, and Shin reaches down to grab your bags (knocking your hands away when you try to reach for them yourself) to head inside, leaving you and his father standing somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. 

Hazel eyes appraise you. He’d called you sweetheart earlier, and you wonder dimly whether he’d said it because he couldn’t remember your name. Shin _had_ mentioned that he was the one to suggest inviting you over but-

“You know, I am glad you’re here, Y/N. It’ll be good to spend a bit of quality time together, don’t you think?” 

You nod, and he rewards you with a winning smile, “Now c’mon, it’s freezing out here.”

He doesn’t say anything more than that, and you barely notice the lingering hand on the small of your back as the two step inside. 

—

It’s still early when you wake the next morning - Christmas Eve - and drag yourself out of bed to head downstairs to find something to eat. Shin’s always been a late sleeper (and normally, so are you) so you half expected that his father would be no different. Yet you’re sitting up at the kitchen counter, halfway through breakfast when the front door opens, and in slips Kuroo dressed in running gear. 

Panting lightly, he toes off his shoes, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to his skin - back from what you can only assume to be an early morning jog. 

For a moment he pauses, running fingers through messy dark hair, and you begin to say hello, when, clearly not having noticed you sitting up at the counter, Kuroo abruptly shrugs off his shirt.

You almost choke on your mouthful of food.

Beneath the well fitting suits, Kuroo Tetsurou’s in surprisingly good shape. Tall, fit and muscular, you can’t seem to drag your eyes away from Kuroo as his broad shoulders roll and he swings an arm across his chest to catch it in the other and stretch it out. A bead of sweat trickles down the toned planes of his abdominals, and you find yourself utterly transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away as your throat dries and a tiny, flustered squeak unwittingly leaves your lips. 

Ever since Shin left for university, Kuroo’s lived in an empty house. You imagine that he’s probably become used to being the only occupant, not having to worry about what he’s wearing or who might be around - and this is technically his house, you’re the odd element out here.

He probably wasn't expecting to come home so early in the morning and find you sitting there - yet when the noise catches his attention, and Kuroo finally spots you, instead of the look of mild embarrassment you’re expecting, or the dash to throw his shirt back on, he just smirks, rolling out his neck as he makes his way over towards you.

“Morning,” he hums, and you barely have a moment to swallow your mouthful of food before he’s right up behind you, reaching over your shoulder to grab an apple out from the fruit bowl.

The scent of him - musk and mint, a faint tang of sweat - lingers as his bare chest presses up against your back. It’s only for a moment, but you wonder if he can feel the way you instinctively stiffen beneath him.

“Uh, good morning?” 

It’s such a casual gesture but your cheeks burn from the unexpected closeness. Kuroo, however, looks entirely unbothered, leaning back against the counter (still shirtless) and eyeing you speculatively. 

“So, looking forward to the party tonight?”

A crinkle appears between your brow, “Party?” Shin hadn’t mentioned anything about a party. As far as you knew, this week was just supposed to be the three of you… 

Kuroo’s smirk widens, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

—

Christmas Eve drinks at the Kuroo household was apparently a time honoured and very sacred tradition - one Shin had somehow _neglected_ to tell you about beforehand.

“It’s really not a big deal, babe - just a few of dad’s old friends coming over, I swear I thought I told you.”

He at least has the decency to look a little chagrined at the unimpressed look you shoot him from the mirror as you fix up your hair, but a kiss planted against your cheeks melts any residual irritation. It’s a surprise, yes, but a Christmas Eve party is hardly the end of the world.

“How do I look?” you ask instead, spinning around to face him. The skirt was a gift from him for your birthday, and paired with thigh high stockings and your favourite white knitted sweater it’s nothing overly fancy, but you’re just hoping that it’s not too-

“Perfect,” Shinnosuke murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you close. “You look beautiful, now stop stressing.”

A couple of old friends, Shin had said. It somehow slipped his mind to mention that those friends included professional volleyball players. You know, like the ones you’d grown up watching on TV, idolising. 

Your boyfriend is only gone from your side for a moment, off to grab a drink when you spot him in the doorway, shrugging off a heavy winter coat. Unmistakable with his silver and black spiky hair and round, golden eyes, Bokuto Kotarou - outside hitter for the MSBY Jackals and the Japanese national team, four time Olympic medalist (with _two_ of those being golds) and your volleyball hero - is standing less than twenty feet away from you. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you freeze like a deer caught in headlights, eyes widening comically. 

It shouldn’t really surprise you, in hindsight. He and Kuroo must be about the same age, both went to highschool in the same prefecture - hell, Nekoma still has a strong relationship with the Fukurodani group, and Kuroo is the chairman of the JVA. It’d make sense that he was on good terms with most if not all of the nationally ranked players. It’s just that for some reason when Shin mentioned his dad’s friends, you kind of pictured a bunch of middle aged salarymen, not… this.

You spot a flash of messy black hair in your peripherals coming closer, and without even taking your eyes off of the ace, you reach out to grab at Shin’s sleeve, yanking him close. “You didn’t tell me your dad was friends with Bokuto Kotarou!” you hiss under your breath.

Yet the answering laugh is far too deep to be your boyfriend’s, and it’s only then that you turn, face aflame, to realise that you’re clutching at Kuroo’s arm, not his son’s. Instantly your grip slackens, but he just regards you with that same amused little smirk that makes your stomach flip. “A fan, are you?”

Wordlessly you nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

Kuroo leans down a little, lowering his voice into a whisper so that it won’t carry, “Want me to introduce you? Promise he’s much less god-like in person.”

He doesn’t really give you a chance to answer, already steering you towards your childhood hero with an arm slung casually over your shoulders. 

You’d like to think you’ve grown up a little since your middle school days, but the moment that Kuroo introduces you and those owlish eyes turn to focus on you, the ace grins widely, and it feels like all of a sudden you’re thirteen again - a blushing, stammering mess incapable of stringing more than a few words together without getting tongue tied, not that either man seems to mind.

Bokuto’s eagerly lapping up the attention like a puppy being showered with praise, and Kuroo, hand now resting on your shoulder, content to watch you gush to his old highschool buddy. 

You can’t believe Shin kept this from you!

And so it goes, once Bokuto is dragged off into another conversation, Kuroo takes it upon himself to lead you through the party, sticking close to your side as he catches up with old friends. 

You’re starry eyed, a little overwhelmed - while Bokuto might be your number one hero, he’s far from the only professional player present. Shin wasn’t wrong, exactly. Despite the thirty or so people milling around the house, it is weirdly enough feels like a low key affair. Yet for you it’s like being in a room with titans - you don’t know what to say or do, it’s a whirlwind, but you can’t deny that you are having a good time - no thanks in part to your boyfriend’s father.

Which makes you feel more than a little guilty for the faint, niggling sense of unease in your gut. Kuroo is going out of his way to introduce you to his friends, to make you feel comfortable and included after Shin left you in the lurch about this whole thing (intentionally or not). And you’re grateful, you _are_ it’s just that… Kuroo stays awfully close. 

And with Kuroo at your side comes simple, unthinking touches - an arm slung over your shoulders, fingertips grazing accidentally at your side, a hand on your lower back, a playful ruffling of your hair.

There’s nothing _wrong_ with it exactly. Shinnosuke used to do the same kind of thing even before the two of you were dating. It’s harmless - an innocent familiarity, but you keep having to remind yourself that before yesterday, you’d barely had so much as conversation with the man.

The very last thing you want to do is make mountains out of molehills, but it just feels… strange. Stifling almost. You’re not used to that kind of close physical contact from anyone other than Shin and your closest friends.

Almost instinctively, your eyes seek him, finding him sequestered off in the corner chatting amiably with a shorter man with two tone hair swept up into a half bun - his godfather you’re fairly certain. Sensing your gaze, Shin looks up and over, shooting the two of you a smile from across the room. If he’s bothered by his dad’s… _hovering_ , he hides it well. 

He might not have said it in as many words, but half the reason you’re here is so that the two of you can bond. You know how important this is to Shin. It should be a good sign - a great one even - that Kuroo likes you, accepts you, but-

“Here,” Kuroo’s low voice pulls you from your thoughts, and something cold is pressed into your hand. “You look a little thirsty, sweetheart.”

A drink, red and smelling sweetly of pomegranates, citrus and ginger. You’d watched him test out the cocktail earlier that afternoon, adding more vodka and champagne until he found the perfect balance. 

Even as your fingers instinctively curl around the glass, you’re already shaking your head with an abashed expression and trying to push it back towards him. “Oh, no thanks, I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

There’s something in the way he chuckles that makes you feel on edge - maybe it’s the clear, almost mocking amusement that dances in his eyes as he leans down a little to whisper in your ear that has your stomach tightening your skin prickling uncomfortably. You realise belatedly that it’s just the two of you, the other guests engrossed in their own little conversations - nobody’s paying either of you any mind, not even Shin.

“Promise I won’t tell,” he teases, his warm breath ghosting across your neck. “C’mon, it’s Christmas Eve, sweetheart. Have a little fun.”

Without even realising it, you sneak a glance at Shin, and sure enough, he’s got a half finished beer in hand. You hadn’t even noticed it before. And it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever drank alcohol, it’s just that-

The fingers still loosely wrapped around yours coax your glass up to your lips, “Just try it, you’ll like it.”

You have no choice but to open your mouth and drink. 

He’s not wrong - it’s sweet and spiced at the same time, warming despite the chill of the cocktail. You can taste the alcohol on your tongue, but it’s faint, hidden behind the stronger flavours, it’s delicious and indulgent, dangerous - because you know you could quite easily knock one back right after the other.

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

For a moment his eyes meet yours, and in those warm, hazel depths you swear you see a flicker of something dark and _wanting_ -

“Oi, Kuroo!” one of his friends shouts, and like _that -_ the spell is broken and whatever you thought you saw is gone. “Come settle something for us!”

Kuroo shakes his head with a laugh, “Overgrown children, the lot of ‘em,” he snorts. 

It’s like whiplash, and you can’t keep up. Your heart thumps an unsteady beat in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel like the floor’s up and disappeared beneath you, leaving you flailing in mid air. But Kuroo just winks, pats your hand once and wanders over to his friends without another word.

A shuddering breath leaves your lips. 

—

It’s late, or rather very, very early when you startle awake - a little after three. 

Christmas morning.

Shin’s still passed out behind you, an arm casually slung over your waist and a thin line of drool running from the corner of his mouth to the pillow below. Normally you’d just roll over and try to get a little more sleep, but your throat is bone dry, crying out for water.

The cocktails you’d quickly lost count of haven’t helped in that regard.

Carefully extricating yourself from your boyfriend’s grip, bare feet pad against the wooden floorboards as you slip an old hoodie over your bare shoulders and make your way down to the kitchen.

The house, huge and sprawling, is eerily quiet. 

Which means that every noise you make in your not-quite- _entirely_ -sober state echoes all too loudly. Shin sleeps like the dead at the best of times, yet when the stairs creak in protest as you tiptoe down you can’t help but flinch, freezing in place like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

You’re not doing anything wrong, but your heart drums almost painfully against your ribs as you wait, listening intently for any sounds of stirring.

Nothing but silence. Exhaling deeply, you continue.

It’s hardly the first time you’ve stayed over, but in the icy stillness of the early hours of the morning, dark and barren, the house takes on an unfamiliar, unwelcoming quality, and you’re not entirely certain that the goosebumps that prickle at your bare legs are solely due to chill of the winter morning. 

Only when you reach the kitchen that you dare to turn on the lights, safe in the knowledge that the brightness won’t disturb the other two occupants. 

The first glass of water you pour, you guzzle, not stopping for breath. You fill the cup again, and down that one too. Already you can feel a faint, dull throbbing in the back of your head, and as you swallow down another sip of water you internally debate whether it’s worth trying to rummage for some painkillers to try and stave the potential headache off or if more water and heading back to bed will be enough to do the trick.

“Can’t sleep?”

The low, rumbling voice catches you by surprise - you jerk around, inhaling your mouthful of water in the process. The result is instantaneous - you choke, lurching forward and coughing as your body instinctually tries to clear your airways of water. 

Kuroo’s there by your side in a heartbeat, a hand rubbing the back of your chest while you hack and splutter gracelessly, “Easy, easy. It’s just me, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

From the tinge of amusement colouring his tone, you somehow doubt that. 

But it’s not until your coughing subsides and your breathing starts to even out that you realise just how close Kuroo is. Looming over you, one hand at your back, the other helping keep you steady - you aren’t even aware of the vice like grip you have on his forearm until you glance up to find him smirking at you, eyebrows lightly raised.

Still, he makes no effort to move, not even as you slowly pry your fingers off of him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “S-sorry,” you murmur - more out of habit than anything else. 

Kuroo ignores the apology entirely. “Better?” he asks.

He’s still rubbing at your back - slow, even strokes along the curve of your spine. You swallow tightly, ignoring the tingle of unease that seeps through your veins like ice.

_Too much.Too much.Too much._

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, forcing a smile onto your lips. Then, almost as an afterthought, you add, “You can let go of me now.”

Kuroo’s smirk widens, glittering and _utterly_ predatory, “Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You always thought of yourself as somebody strong. Capable. 

Frozen in place, heart pounding and mouth agape, you realise how wrong that assumption was. You’re nothing but a naive little fool, and the sheer dread that floods your system at his words is _paralysing_. 

Kuroo leans down, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, “You don’t need to be. Daddy’s gonna take good care of his girl.”

And then his lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you. 

Your mind goes blank. You can’t think. You can’t move. Kuroo lets out a low groan and you feel his tongue slide past your lips, a hand creeping behind your neck to cradle your head, deepening the kiss-

_Your boyfriend’s father has his tongue down your throat._

A switch flips, adrenaline finally kicking in, and your hands find his chest, shoving him back, “What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss quietly, “Let go of me!” 

Kuroo barely stumbles, has the audacity to laugh as he tightens his grip in your hair and yanks you back in. “Don’t tell me the kitten has claws?”

He sounds delighted by the prospect, but you have little time to ponder the thought as he’s kissing you again, forcing you back against the marble countertop. He was being gentle earlier, you realise with a jolt of panic - his mouth is rougher now, bruising and insistent. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, sucking on it hungrily as his body moulds itself to yours.

You try to shove him off again, but it becomes painfully apparent that Kuroo had only been humouring you before. This time he doesn’t so much as budge, just knocks away your hands with embarrassing ease, grabs you by the hips and flips you around, slamming your front up against the counter. 

A pained gasp leaves your lips as the air’s knocked from your lungs, but he doesn’t give you a moment to recover, a strong palm planted between your shoulder blades forcing your chest down to the cool, marble countertop. Fingers creep up to curl around the nape of your neck, pinning you there, but that’s not what sends the flurry of panic racing through your veins - it’s his cock, hard and grinding against the swell of your ass.

Tears prick in your eyes as Kuroo leans down over you. Your head’s awkwardly twisted to the the side, pressed to the marble but it doesn’t stop you from writhing, struggling to free yourself from his grip as his lips find your ear. 

“Fuck, kitten, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, do you?”

The gentleness of his tone, the soft, lingering kiss he presses to your hair - they do little to belie the force of the iron grip he has on your neck.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a whimper slipping out past clenched teeth. You can’t let yourself think about the implication dangling there, that this wasn’t just a moment of drunken opportunism gone horribly wrong.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling and scared. “Let me go.”

The grip on your neck relents as Kuroo lifts himself back up off of you - but only so that he can brace himself on the edge of the counter to reach for the hem of your sleep shorts. “Gonna be a good girl for me, aren’t you, Y/N? Gonna let daddy stuff you nice and full with his thick cock.”

“Stop.”

He hushes you, and your panties join your pyjama shorts on the floor. 

You can feel the hysteria rising within you as fingernails bite into the soft skin of your palm and your fists clench - bottled up and building with nowhere to go. Kuroo says something, or maybe it’s just another moan, but you don’t even hear it, all you can focus on is the harsh drag of every breath you inhale, the feel of his hand grabbing at your ass, _squeezing_. 

“Please stop.”

Kuroo hums, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

When a lone finger slips lower, brushing against your pussy, the dam breaks entirely. A sob, loud and terrified rips its way from your throat as tears blurring your vision finally spill down your cheeks. “Please, Kuroo. Please don’t do this, _let me go, please let me go_!”

You kick back, thrashing beneath him - and he swears as an elbow catches at his gut. But even taken by surprise, Kuroo is stronger than he looks. Quicker, too. Without ceremony he’s hauling you back up flush to his torso, a strong, muscular arm snaking across your chest and fingers closing in on your throat, just tight enough that you can _feel_ it.

“Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down,” he growls, his voice a deep, rough timbre that sends shivers down your spine. “Unless you wanna wake Shin up, let him see how much of a whore his pretty little girlfriend is, hm?”

Shin.

Your eyes widen, frantic pleas falling silent. 

Kuroo laughs behind you, the sound laced with an edge of bitter cruelty, “You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?”

It’s a low, _vicious_ blow, and Kuroo knows it. You love him. You’re young and stupid and you know that you still have your entire life ahead of you, but you want that life to be with him.

Seeing this - you, half naked, wrapped around his father - would break him.

The truth won’t matter, Kuroo knows it as well as you do.

And as the last of your fight leaves your body with a broken whimper, he grins triumphantly. “Good girl.”

You don’t fight it when his fingers slide inside your pussy, stretching you out as slick coats his digits. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle any sounds as he toys with your clit, driving you right to the edge of an orgasm while he laves hot, open mouthed kisses to your neck.

But even you can’t stop the tears, the tiny hiccuping sobs as Kuroo lays you back down against the kitchen counter, takes his hard, throbbing cock in hand and forces it inside of you.

They’re quickly lost to the sound of his own harsh pants and grunts, the moans and rasping, stuttered growls of your name from between clenched teeth. He fucks you roughly, desperately, pounding his hips against yours and driving himself deeper inside of you like salvation itself lies between your thighs. 

And you lie there, eyes shut, fists clenched, and let him.

You pretend you don’t hear the whispered confessions, the words that make your insides twist and your cheeks burn. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt as he rails you like a man possessed, chasing his own end.

When he cums, biting down on the fabric of your hoodie to muffle the sounds of his shouts, you pretend that something inside of you doesn't break as well.

For a moment (a few seconds? A minute? Ten? You couldn’t honestly say) neither of you move, your soft, shattered cries and Kuroo’s ragged breathing the only sounds in the quiet of the early morning. Eventually, though, he pulls himself out of you, tucking his spent cock back into his pants. He talks to you, says something as he helps you up into a seated position and wipes the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness he has no right to, but it’s all white noise, washing over you like waves breaking on the shore.

You almost want to laugh when he leaves your side, returning a moment later with a glass of water that he sets down next to you. He doesn’t lift a finger to help you clean up the mess of cum oozing out from your pussy though, and you wonder distantly as dark, hazel eyes appraise you, whether he wants you to leave it there. Whether he wants you to return to your boyfriend’s bed with _his_ cum leaking out of you.

Eventually, Kuroo sighs. It’s not remorseful, or even that abashed. No, if anything the sound is more wistful than anything else, _wanting_ , despite the contented smirk on his face.

There’s a pit in your stomach at the sight of it.

You still have another seven days to spend together, just you, him and Shinnosuke and judging from the glint in Kuroo’s eyes as he pulls you close once more, he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing the crown of your head - lingering for a beat longer than necessary. 

And then he’s gone, trudging back towards his room without a backwards glance.


End file.
